I'm unsure what the last segment of the latest Count The Dings live show, taking place deep in the heart of an increasingly hazy night in Frisco, was about. I think it was about Internet Patois. There's a lot of factors clouding that memory, but the primary driver was the joy of seeing Ethan Sherwood Strauss, Tom Haberstroh, Wosny Lambre and Amin Elhassan just talk on stage. For many of the few hundred in attendance it took us back to a simpler time - an ironic simplicity given back then it was under the ESPN umbrella. Yet in that moment, for those few minutes, the night was perfect and watching and hearing those four gentlemen talk allowed me to complete my mental checklist of what I want out of these shows.
Not having to do the bingo-chasing task of introducing myself to various CTD crew members this time did give me some added clarity on what all this - traveling thousands of miles to go to these shows - is about. Why I (and by 'I', I mean we - the ever loyal ever growing CTD community) travel far and wide to these events. The first time I went it was to see a live podcast. The second time it was to experience a great weekend. And now, and assuredly going forward, it is to basically to have a lot of fun with people you know and people you share a distinct, unique, common interest.
It's hard to really put this into words. After all, I am not the aforementioned Ethan Sherwood Strauss, a Tom Verducci like figure in basketball sportswriting who sat crossed-legged with the style of a panelist at Davos. I tried to come up with a theme for this one that is different than 'oh my God how amazing was this', and to be honest I have not fully done so. If anything, it was about immersion; fully immersing yourself in this world, if only for one pristine weekend every few months.
Flimsy as it may seem, I do think the reactions and experiences are different as you get more and more immersed into this community. While the strength of the community has afforded us ways to keep in touch, the energy of walking into that room meeting people you've gotten to know for no other reason than your shared interest in a Mom & Pop podcast is thrilling.
The weekends also improve as they get more immersed with us. There was more time spent with the podcasts hosts (CTD crew), from them all crashing our community meet-up on Thursday in downtown Oakland, to the man/myth/legend Big Wos crashing our meetup to watch college football Saturday morning, to the normal karaoke shenanigans Friday night. It truly has become an immersive experience, one that is addicting, exhilerating and endlessly fun. That's where this all differs from attending a live show for a Joe Rogan or some podcast monolith. In those, I can only imagine there's no outside meet-ups, surely no karaoke singing a parade of bangers deep into the night at a Japanese restaurant. Especially not one where the hosts will all attend and belt out songs right aside you.
Flimsy as it may seem, I do think the reactions and experiences are different as you get more and more immersed into this community. While the strength of the community has afforded us ways to keep in touch, the energy of walking into that room meeting people you've gotten to know for no other reason than your shared interest in a Mom & Pop podcast is thrilling.
The weekends also improve as they get more immersed with us. There was more time spent with the podcasts hosts (CTD crew), from them all crashing our community meet-up on Thursday in downtown Oakland, to the man/myth/legend Big Wos crashing our meetup to watch college football Saturday morning, to the normal karaoke shenanigans Friday night. It truly has become an immersive experience, one that is addicting, exhilerating and endlessly fun. That's where this all differs from attending a live show for a Joe Rogan or some podcast monolith. In those, I can only imagine there's no outside meet-ups, surely no karaoke singing a parade of bangers deep into the night at a Japanese restaurant. Especially not one where the hosts will all attend and belt out songs right aside you.
To me, those moments are actually where the highlight of the weekend came. On Thursday Night a group of the loyal traveling CTD Live Show vagrants arranged a meet-up at a bar, just as we had done in Chicago when we last ran this back. That is usually the nice soft launch of the weekend.
Instead, right as it was dying down near midnight, Jade, Wos, Mayes and the rest of the CTD gang showed up and we end up closing the place down. It was unexpected in a way the rest of the weekend was not. To be sure, the reason it happened is because there is some intrinsic value and enjoyment going both ways. For the CTD gang, showing up had to have some benefit for them; certainly the amount of hugs and laughs and parading of inside jokes attests to that.
Instead, right as it was dying down near midnight, Jade, Wos, Mayes and the rest of the CTD gang showed up and we end up closing the place down. It was unexpected in a way the rest of the weekend was not. To be sure, the reason it happened is because there is some intrinsic value and enjoyment going both ways. For the CTD gang, showing up had to have some benefit for them; certainly the amount of hugs and laughs and parading of inside jokes attests to that.
I would be remiss to continue even a sentence further without mentioning Jade Hoye, the mastermind behind all of this. Yes, credit is shared among the various CTD crew and among the fans that have taken on logistical responsibilities to expand the weekend to its natural conclusion (for now till we inevitably invent something new). Underpinning that combined effort is a drive to do it because Jade Hoye had a drive and a dream to build an insane little fly-by-night podcast operation, centered around basketball, but with culture and life furtively spilling out.
It seems a bit strange that so little of what I write about these - specifically the Chicago show and this - has to do with the actual live show itself. I should give Saturday Night's marquis festivities some due, and it was great to be sure. There was Black Tray's almost Andy Kauffman-esque performance retelling a Monta Ellis story. There was a small Radio Ethan appearance which was another 'now I can die in peace' moment. There was the raucous nature of the crowd, particularly during a certain segment covering Durant's time on the Warriors. There was Big Wos's normal tomfoolery. There wsas hilarious breakdowns of the movie swordfish. There was poetry, both literal from Anthony Canton III, and not so literally, from the chorus of humorous heckles escaping the crowd. It was a great time. It always is.
But what we pay for the show is put towards the full weekend. To get a chance to belt out bangers at karaoke - from fans with Wos singing Old Town Road, or me hammering out New York, New York with Jade. The set-up for karaoke - the upstairs of a Japanese restaurant - was tighter than normal with oddly placed tables and limited floor space. But tight quarters begat enjoyable intimacy, with cascading pitchers of Sapporo and bottles of Shoju aiding us in our quest to go through as much old East Coast hip hop as humanly possible.
The live shows won't stop, and we won't stop coming because we are addicted in the most positive way. Addicted to sharing the podcast which we individually enjoy months on end in a group setting. Beyond that, we are increasingly addicted to that immersive experience, to catching up on friendships both simultaneously deep and fleeting. Addicted to unknowingly growing bonds with the Tom's (yes Tom, I was wearing a Sharks jersey that I never washed since I bought it), and Amin's and Wos's (preach Rihanna > Bey) and Jade's (China talk!) and Eden's and the rest.
Deep within the world's that we of the CTD community individually live, every so often we can come together and share something unique, immersing ourselves in basketball-tinged escapism. It may all sound a bit silly, but as I sat there at the death of the weekend watching the four TrueHoop TV OGs that I first listened to through a grainy, choppy Spreecast feed years ago talk shop it all made perfect sense again.
It seems a bit strange that so little of what I write about these - specifically the Chicago show and this - has to do with the actual live show itself. I should give Saturday Night's marquis festivities some due, and it was great to be sure. There was Black Tray's almost Andy Kauffman-esque performance retelling a Monta Ellis story. There was a small Radio Ethan appearance which was another 'now I can die in peace' moment. There was the raucous nature of the crowd, particularly during a certain segment covering Durant's time on the Warriors. There was Big Wos's normal tomfoolery. There wsas hilarious breakdowns of the movie swordfish. There was poetry, both literal from Anthony Canton III, and not so literally, from the chorus of humorous heckles escaping the crowd. It was a great time. It always is.
But what we pay for the show is put towards the full weekend. To get a chance to belt out bangers at karaoke - from fans with Wos singing Old Town Road, or me hammering out New York, New York with Jade. The set-up for karaoke - the upstairs of a Japanese restaurant - was tighter than normal with oddly placed tables and limited floor space. But tight quarters begat enjoyable intimacy, with cascading pitchers of Sapporo and bottles of Shoju aiding us in our quest to go through as much old East Coast hip hop as humanly possible.
The live shows won't stop, and we won't stop coming because we are addicted in the most positive way. Addicted to sharing the podcast which we individually enjoy months on end in a group setting. Beyond that, we are increasingly addicted to that immersive experience, to catching up on friendships both simultaneously deep and fleeting. Addicted to unknowingly growing bonds with the Tom's (yes Tom, I was wearing a Sharks jersey that I never washed since I bought it), and Amin's and Wos's (preach Rihanna > Bey) and Jade's (China talk!) and Eden's and the rest.
Deep within the world's that we of the CTD community individually live, every so often we can come together and share something unique, immersing ourselves in basketball-tinged escapism. It may all sound a bit silly, but as I sat there at the death of the weekend watching the four TrueHoop TV OGs that I first listened to through a grainy, choppy Spreecast feed years ago talk shop it all made perfect sense again.
